Cecelia Ahern - If You Could See Me Now

“Love.”

“Love,” Elizabeth repeated dully.

“Yes. Love.” He leaned back in the chair, fingers interlocked across his stomach.

“You have love in mind,” Elizabeth said stonily, looking at Benjamin for assurance.

Benjamin rolled his eyes and shrugged.

“Hey, I don’t give a shit about love,” Vincent said as a way of explanation. “I’ve been married twenty-five years. It’s the Irish public that wants it. Where is that thing?” He looked around the table, then slid the folder of newspaper articles toward Elizabeth.

After a moment of flicking through the pages, Elizabeth spoke. In her voice Benjamin sensed disappointment. “Ah, I see. You want a themed hotel.”

“You make it sound tacky when you say that.” He waved his hand dismissively.

“I believe themed hotels are tacky,” Elizabeth said firmly. She couldn’t forsake her principles, even for a plum job like this.

Benjamin and Poppy looked to Vincent for his response. It was like watching a tennis match.

“Elizabeth,” Vincent said with a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. “You’re a beautiful young woman, surely you should know this. Love is not a theme. It’s an atmosphere, a mood.”

“I see,” Elizabeth said, sounding and looking as though she didn’t see at all. “You want to create a feeling of love in a hotel.”

“Exactly!” Vincent said, looking pleased. “But it’s not what I want, it’s what they want.” He stabbed the newspaper with his finger.

Elizabeth cleared her throat and spoke as if addressing a child. “Mr. Taylor, it’s June, what people here refer to as silly season, when there’s nothing else to write about. The media simply represents a distorted image of the public’s opinion—it’s not accurate, you know, it doesn’t represent the hopes and wishes of the Irish people. To strive for something to meet the needs of the media would be to make a huge mistake.”

Vincent looked unimpressed.

Elizabeth continued, “Look, the hotel is in a wonderful location with stunning views, bordering a beautiful town with an endless amount of outdoor amenities available. My designs are about bringing the outside in, making the landscapes part of the interior. With the use of natural earthy tones like dark greens and browns and with the use of stone we can—”

“I’ve heard all this before,” Vincent puffed. “I don’t want the hotel to blend in with the mountains, I want it to stand out. I don’t want the guests to feel like damn hobbits sleeping in a mound of grass and mud.” He stabbed his cigar out angrily in the ashtray.

She’d lost him, Benjamin thought. Too bad, this one really tried . He watched her face melt as the job slipped away from her.

“Mr. Taylor,” she said quickly, “you haven’t heard all my ideas yet.”

She was grasping at straws.

Vincent grunted and looked at his diamond-studded Rolex. “You’ve got thirty seconds.”

She froze for twenty of them and eventually her face fell and she looked to be in a great deal of pain as she spoke her next few words. “Poppy.” She sighed. “Tell him your ideas.”

“Yes!” Poppy jumped up in excitement and danced around the other side of the table to Vincent. “OK, so I’m thinking water beds in the shape of a heart, hot tubs, champagne flutes that rise from the bedside lockers. I’m thinking the Romantic era meets Art Deco . An explosion ”—she made explosion signs with her hands—“of rich reds, burgundy, and wine that make you feel like you’re being embraced in a velvet-lined womb . Candles everywhere . French boudoir meets—”

As Poppy rambled on and Vincent nodded his head animatedly while hanging on her every word, Benjamin turned to look at Elizabeth, who in turn had her head in her hand, wincing at every one of Poppy’s ideas. Their eyes met and they both shared an exasperated look over their respective colleagues.

Then they shared a smile.

Chapter Seventeen

“Oh, my goodness, oh, my goodness,” Poppy squealed with delight, dancing toward Elizabeth’s car. “I’d like to thank Damien Hirst for inspiring me, Egon Schiele”—she wiped an imaginary tear from her eye—“Bansky and Robert Rauschenberg for providing me with such incredible art that helped my creative mind develop, opening delicately like a bud and for—”

“Stop it,” Elizabeth hissed through gritted teeth. “They’re still watching us.” “Oh, they are not, don’t be so paranoid.” Poppy’s tune changed from elation to frustration. She turned around to face the cabin on the site.

“Don’t turn around, Poppy!” Elizabeth spoke as if giving out to a child.

“Oh, why not, they’re not watchi— Oh, they are, BYEEE! THAANKSSS.” She waved her hands wildly.

“Do you want to lose your job?” Elizabeth threatened, refusing to turn around. Her words had the same effect as they would on Luke when she threatened to take away his PlayStation. Poppy stopped skipping immediately and they both walked in silence back to the car, Elizabeth feeling two pairs of eyes burning into her back.

“I can’t believe we got the job,” Poppy said breathily once inside, hand on her heart. “Nor can I,” Elizabeth grumbled, securing her seat belt around her body and starting up the engine.

“What’s wrong with you, grumpy? You’d swear we didn’t get this job or something,” Poppy said.

Elizabeth thought about that. In fact, she didn’t get the job. Poppy did. It was a victory that didn’t feel like a victory at all. And why had Ivan been there? He had told Elizabeth he worked with children, what had the hotel got to do with children? He hadn’t even stuck around long enough for her to find out, instead leaving the room as soon as the drinks were brought, and without a good-bye to anyone apart from Elizabeth. She pondered this. Perhaps he was involved in business with Vincent and she’d walked in during an important meeting, which would make sense as to why Vincent had seemed so rudely preoccupied. Well, whatever it was, she needed to be informed and she was angry that Ivan hadn’t mentioned it last night. She had plans to make and despised disruptions.

“That Benjamin West is gorgeous, isn’t he?” Poppy said, nudging Elizabeth’s arm as she was driving.

“Poppy,” Elizabeth said in frustration and gripped the wheel to avoid the car veering off. “I didn’t notice,” she finally answered Poppy, who was gazing at her.

“Sure you didn’t.” She shook her head and looked out the window.

“I could barely see his face under all the dirt,” Elizabeth said, pulling into the space outside her office.

“Oh, you’re unbelievable, there wasn’t any dirt on his face. He works on a building site . What do you expect him to wear, a three-piece suit?”

Distracted from the disappointing meeting, Elizabeth phased out of Poppy’s excited chatter and sent her back to work while she headed over to Joe’s for a coffee.

“Good afternoon, Elizabeth,” Joe shouted. The three other customers jumped in their seats at his sudden outburst.

“Coffee, please, Joe.”

“For a change?”

She smiled tightly. She chose a table by the window looking onto the main street, but with her back to the window. She wasn’t a gazer, she needed to think.

“Excuse me, Ms. Egan.” A male American accent startled her.

“Mr. West,” she said, looking up in surprise.

“Please call me Benjamin.” He smiled and indicated the chair beside her. “Mind if I join you?”

Elizabeth moved her papers out of his way. “Would you like a drink?”